The Renegade (The Moorehouse Legacy #3)(21)

“Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

Oh, God. Dinner. With Alex. Alone.

“Say, are you okay, Cass?”

She stood up. “I’m fine. Just need a quick shower. Has Ernest been fed?”

“In a manner of speaking. He tore into a package of cookies that had slipped out of a grocery bag. Spent most of the afternoon in the yard.” Libby came over and rubbed the dog’s head. “No more Fig Newtons for you, right?”

Ernest heaved a big sigh as if answering.

“I’ll give him a little extra love,” Cass murmured.

“He’d appreciate that.” Libby headed for the door. “Oh, and don’t wait up for me. My brother’s a long talker.”

Twenty minutes later Cass put the blow-dryer down and didn’t bother to brush her hair out. There was no need to worry about the stuff. No need to put makeup on, either. It was the country, for one thing, and no matter where she was, she had no reason to primp for Alex, either.

Talk about surprised, she thought. She’d never expected him to take her up on the dinner invite. She’d only put it out there to be polite.

Cass threw on what she thought of as her dorm clothes: leggings and a floppy white turtleneck. Then she put thick cotton socks to good use and stuffed her feet into a pair of moccasin slippers. When she got to the kitchen, she went over to the refrigerator and figured she might as well wrestle up dinner. No doubt Alex was going to eat fast and run.

“Have a good shower?” he asked from behind her.

She wheeled around. “Holy…!”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” His eyes were hooded as they drifted over her hair.

“No, it’s fine. I, uh…” It was not fine. She was not fine. Especially as she looked him over.

Alex had on a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips and a black turtleneck sweater. His dark hair was brushed back and seemed a little damp. As he stood under the recessed lighting, he was so handsome, it was hard to take in his presence without blinking a lot. Worse, she had to force herself to forget she had a clear picture of his bare chest. And knew exactly what the skin across his stomach felt like.

“Ah, Libby left us something,” she said, turning to the refrigerator and thinking maybe she should get in it. The kitchen suddenly felt two degrees away from tropical.

She thought of his hand leading hers down his torso and on to his…

Make that volcanic.

“Are we going to eat in here?” he drawled.

She put the chicken on the counter and went back for the salad. “Absolutely. No reason to be formal.”

When she pivoted around, Alex was eyeing the swinging door as if waiting for someone to come through it. Someone he wasn’t particularly fond of, going by his razor eyes.

“So, you looked surprised to see me this morning,” she said as she grabbed a plate and started cutting into the roast.

“Do you need some help?”

“Were you surprised?” It was perverse, but she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted the satisfaction of knowing she’d thrown him, even if it was just a little.

There was a pause. “Yeah. I was.”

She put the plate of chicken in the microwave and sent it on a merry-go-round ride. Then she took the salad over to the table, grabbed a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and tried to remember where the napkins were.

Somewhere over to the left. About where Alex was standing with his cane resting on his thigh and his cast kicked out in front of him.

“Would you get the napkins? They’re behind you. I think.”

His eyes flipped to the door again and he smiled darkly. “My pleasure.”

“Why do you keep looking over there?”

But he was bent down, opening drawers, and obviously didn’t hear her.

Maybe it was the dog. Ernest could be a lot to handle, and for a man with a cast, an eighty-pound canine flying across a room was a dangerous thing.

“You don’t need to worry about him,” she said. “He’s staying upstairs.”

Alex looked over his shoulder. “Oh, really.”

“He wasn’t feeling well.”

“Poor baby,” he murmured. “So it’s just you and me for dinner?”

She nodded. “Don’t feel bad. I gave him a lot of attention before you came.”

Alex frowned, a dark emotion settling into his eyes.

“I’m sure you did,” he said with an edge.

*

As Alex grabbed two napkins, he tried not to imagine the kind of “extra attention” she’d given O’Banyon.

“You don’t think you love him or something, do you?” he blurted out.

Oh, shut up, Moorehouse.

Cass frowned and then laughed a little. “I adore him. Although he can be a lot to handle…you know, always all over me.”

Terrific. Like he needed to know O’Banyon was a hungry lover. With stamina.

God, maybe he should just leave. Before he found out how big the man’s—

“Would you like some wine?” she asked.

No, actually, he’d like a concussion. At least that way he’d stop talking. And thinking.

And looking.

Cass was sexy as hell tonight. Black leggings and a loose turtleneck that hung past her hips. Her red hair was down and curlier than he’d ever seen it, as if she’d let it dry naturally or hadn’t brushed it out. He wanted to sink his hands into the thick waves and angle her head back and kiss her until they both went weak.